


Knowing You

by rogue_1102



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied Relationships, Power Dynamics, Superheroes, Supervillains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogue_1102/pseuds/rogue_1102
Summary: In a world of superheroes and supervillains, The Cerulean Avenger finds herself in the clutches of the Dark Destroyer.  Why has he captured her, and what does he want?
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 50
Kudos: 95





	1. Capture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fan art at the end by: [NekoR](https://twitter.com/_NekoR); go check them out.

~ _"You sit here in judgement of my actions, but when my country,_ **_my_ ** _people were under the oppression of that bastard Frieza you sat and did nothing. No! We will not submit to your world government. No! We will not yield to your petty sanctions. No...we rebuke you and your false words."~_

_~Well, there you have it folks. King Vegeta IV informing the World Organization of Countries, in no uncertain terms, that his recently liberated country of Sadala will remain forever independent._

_What does that mean for the rest of the world? Kent?_

_Well, Yuri, the rest of the world will be holding its breath. This "King Vegeta" is a metahuman. We've seen what he can do, in person. Central Station is still being rebuilt. The guy has been dubbed the Dark Destroyer, for a reason._

_That's correct. He has personally overseen the theft of military supplies, including nuclear material, as well as eradicating important strategic outposts in the region._

_This madman, obviously, just has an axe to grind with the WOC. I mean, are we to blame because those Saiyans couldn't hold onto their own country. Roll the tape! See? They welcomed Frieza with open arms…_

_Actually, that's footage of King Vegeta's coronation…._

_Whatever! He's a crazy kook and a dangerous one. One of those so called heroes should just take him out._

_Excuse me….Breaking News! Our downtown correspondents report that the Cerulean Avenger is battling an unknown assailant…~_

_~I'm down here, on the ground, and people are scattering. No one knows what's going on or why this is happening!~_

_~What we're watching now is an intense melee. Oh no! She's down, the Cerulean Avenger is down!~_

\-----------------

The last thing she could clearly remember was darkness overtaking her vision, followed by an inhuman and guttural scream. Her body had felt weightless, though she had assumed it was from the concussion that was no doubt affecting her equilibrium.

She had been battling in the city, of that she was sure, and now she was on a boat.

The more accurate term was yacht, but that was hardly worth mincing words about, and there was nothing but ocean as far as she could see. Normally, such a predicament would be a mild inconvenience, but nothing that she couldn’t overcome; however, her captor had seen fit to relieve her of her suit and her arsenal. 

The Cerulean Avenger paced the room in nothing but her mask and a fluffy white robe, which had a thread count that she could certainly appreciate. She scanned the room, looking for anything that she could fashion into a weapon while she was being left alone. Either her host was very frugal when it came to furnishing their rooms or they had done their homework on her. She was willing to bet it was the latter, rather than the former, due to the lack of anything useful she found in her very thorough search.

_Whomever it is, clearly doesn’t want to hurt me or they would have done so by now._

_Hmm, there was a disturbance downtown, that bald-headed goon was causing trouble again...I went to help….I turned...and then...nothing._

“Lost in your thoughts again, I see. That almost cost you your life this time.”

That voice, one she intimately knew but never thought she’d hear again in such close quarters. That voice which permeated her waking thoughts and restless dreams. That voice which carried words of desecration and delight.

She took a calming breath, and turned, knowing full well the person who was behind her. His presence was unmistakable, as was the power he could unleash with just a flick of his wrist.

He stood, arms crossed, with a self-assured confidence that had made many a self-proclaimed hero quake in their boots. His eyes, black and bottomless, held a twinkle of amusement and his lips the hint of a smile. 

She was at a decided disadvantage, but it was better to act unafraid. Men, or monsters depending on you asked, such as these only responded to perceived power. Pleas for mercy or deceptive genuflection would be met with scorn, or death. Projecting strength would be the only way she could get answers as to why she was sequestered here.

"You must be asking yourself, why am I here? And, perhaps you would like me to exposite my plan after trading tired words of pomposity and bravado?" 

With each phrase, his hand gestured dramatically as if he found the entire prospect tiresome; however, the bemused expression remained fixed upon his countenance.

"Then, I assume, you would rather get straight to the point? My fight was not with you today. Why would you go out of your way to kidnap me? Where is my gear, and why am I naked? Did you take pictures? I bet you did. Or you had your lackeys do it for you. Get high and tight with the pussy shots to create your own private spank bank so you can cum all over yourself while thinking of me."

Through her long query, he waited patiently, though his face darkened at her childish insult. An unimpressed look momentarily replaced his bemused one, and a slight blush darkened his cheeks.

"That _vulgarity_ is uncalled for, and beneath one such as yourself. Fear not, my dear, your virtue has not been impugned and all will be explained without the need for churlish barbs and grand monologues..."

The Dark Destroyer snapped his fingers, and a white clad attendant appeared with an equally white box and set it on the bed. The attendant opened the parcel, and pulled out a long, sparkling, blue garment which they carefully lay upon the bed.

"...at dinner. I trust you will be dressed appropriately. It would be in poor taste to attend a King's table in such limited attire."

His eyes traveled appreciatively upon and down her form. When his eyes found hers again, they no longer held amusement, or disapproval, but pure sensuality. She remembered those eyes, and the foul trap they set. One moment, fierce and merciless and the next vulnerable and..

No.

She would not allow herself to fall into a repetitive cycle with this man. Her gaze fell to the garment on the bed. Like the bathrobe, she could tell it was a dress of quality. Any other woman might be flattered or impressed with the subtle display of wealth; however, affluence was akin to breathing in her purview. This was not a gift, but a calculated chess move and one designed to place her off balance.

"Despite the offering, perhaps I am disinclined to accept the _King's_ invitation. I've read about how dinner guests are treated at _your_ table."

A tiny flicker of anger flashed across his face, though the Dark Destroyer quickly masked his displeasure and the composed veneer of authority returned. He bowed, and turned on his heel with militaristic precision. 

The attendant took the empty box and exited the room as well; however, before the door closed, her captor returned. Whereas he previously had a warm magnetism on his face, in its place was cold pragmatism. 

"My lady, you are welcome to leave at any time. We are 100 kilometers from the nearest shoreline, and we cannot spare a life boat for your use. For the safety of those on board, your equipment has been seized and will not be returned. If you attempt to swim, and given your level of physical fitness, you will drown after 5 miles. If you choose to tread water, and hope for rescue, you will drown after 10 hours."

He walked back into the room, power and precision oozing out of every pore. His uniform glistened and proudly displayed the Crest of his house. His red cape, a symbol of nobility and an extension of his movements. This was a man who had been born to rule and conquer, and it showed in his carriage and comportment. 

"Or, you can join me for a meal. Surely, that seems preferable to cold, ignominious death. I swear on the blood of my people that no harm shall come to you."

Damn him. She had thought of those same options and dismissed them all; however hearing them said so dispassionately brought the full weight of the inevitable to bear. 

Unable to mount an acceptable defense, and with no logical alternative, the Cerulean Avenger lowered her head in defeat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	2. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Recap: The Cerulean Avenger found herself captured by the notorious Dark Destroyer. Instead of a battle, a dinner invitation was extended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Lady_Red for the beta!
> 
> Sorry for the long delay. Now that we've all got nothing but time, updates will be more prompt!  
>  Thank you all for reading and feel free to leave a comment!

_ ~We’re back in the studio giving you updates on the unfolding drama downtown. For a closer look, here’s Yuri Zhu with this special report.  _

_ ~ It’s been hours since the Cerulean Avenger did battle downtown, and people are still trying to make sense of it. What seemed like your standard hero vs villain battle quickly turned lethal when an unknown entity entered the fray...~ _

_ ~Yeah...she was fighting the big guy...then...I couldn’t really see it...it looked like she got hit...hard...and then, I saw that dude gather energy or something in his hands…suddenly there was a big explosion and glass was raining down everywhere. Everyone was running after that...” _

_ ~Other eyewitnesses claim to have seen a third party firing towards the two combatants and even absconding with the city’s hero. The traffic cams surrounding the area only caught a blurred figure before the explosion. Officials are still investigating, but there has been no word from the Cerulean Avenger. Now we can only ask:  _ _ Where is she?~ _

================================================================

She entered the room, wearing the sparkling gown he had provided, and walked past her captor towards the immaculately set table in the middle of the room. Her professionally applied makeup and styled hair was the work of a woman, who did not give her name but had kind eyes, that had repeatedly rebuffed the Cerulean Avenger’s attempts to obtain additional intel despite the hero's best efforts.

“You look lovely.”

She paused, and cut her eyes to the side. While most men would be looking at her body and how the dress clung to her curves, this man was gazing into her eyes with unabashed and unfettered admiration. It should have been unexpected; however, the more time she spent with this man, the more she came to realize that he was more than just the name the press had dubbed him, just as she was more than Bulma Briefs - heiress and girlfriend to acclaimed actor Yamcha Rekishiyoma.

The King had also changed, opting to forego his battle uniform for the more traditional, yet perfectly tailored, dress blues of his country's military; however, he looked anything but casual. If anything, he seemed more stiff and stern in this setting; whereas, out on the field of battle, he reveled in the flow of combat freed from this invisible burden she could practically see on his shoulders.

A gloved hand pulled out her chair and she gracefully lowered herself into it with the aristocratic apathy that had surrounded her since her birth. As its owner moved away, a leather encased finger trailed down her bare arm, causing a shiver to run up her body in both apprehension and anticipation.

Her eyes followed his path around the table, tracking his every movement. The smirk, which seemed permanently affixed to his countenance, did not falter as he waited for one of his many attendants to pull out his chair. He sat and met her cold gaze with that same assured confidence he often displayed during their battles. She did not avert her eyes, and neither did he, as a pale red wine was gently poured into their glasses and the cloches removed from their meal. King Vegeta swirled the liquid in his glass, and took a moment to enjoy the bouquet before nodding to the attendants who then quickly took their leave. 

She had to remind herself that this was all just a perverse game and nothing more than a momentary diversion in the mind of the manipulative monarch. A series of calculated moves cleverly designed to press an opponent into making a grievous error in judgement. He may control the tempo and flow of play for now, but his seemingly fortified emotional barrier was not impervious to attacks. That much she knew. 

In an effort to appear unaffected, she looked down upon the intimate table setting with disinterest. She picked up a piece of gilded silverware, unsurprised by its heft and quality. This man did not do things by half measures, but rather than fall for the grandeur in front of her she proceeded to adjust her black mask in the knife's shiny reflection before loudly dropping the item onto the linen tablecloth.

They were alone, again.

Her thoughts, unbidden, returned to their last solitary entanglement and she tried in vain to stop them drifting to the more carnal moments in her memory.

“You’re not eating. Is the menu not to your liking?”

She looked up and saw that he had begun to devour the meal on his plate with an unrestrained, but refined, gusto. The roasted duck with potatoes, cooked to perfection, on her plate smelled heavenly and her stomach growled in defiance of her wishes in response to his inquiry. Bulma eyed the mouthwatering meal and forced a grimace on her features as she glared at her dinner companion from across the table.

“How do I know that you haven’t drugged this food so that you can whisk me away to your sex dungeon or traffic me to the highest bidder to be a sex slave for other villains?”

The unimpressed look returned to the King’s face and he tsked in disapproval. He forcefully pulled at the fingers of his white dress gloves, removing and tossing them on the table with irritation, before rising from the table and striding to her side. Her body tensed at his approach and she held her breath when he leaned down to her level, never letting his eyes wander anywhere but from her own. 

He picked up a fork and expertly speared a piece of the succulent water fowl with the same condescension one may give an unruly child refusing to eat their supper. Her eyes followed the fork's path to his mouth as he confidently took a bite and then offered her the remainder. 

She rolled her eyes at his display, and took the fork from his hand causing their fingers to brush against each other. A small gasp left her mouth and, for a small moment, a spark seemed to pass between them as if their skin were the conductor of an electrical current that traveled through both of their bodies and had nowhere to escape. Rather than allow herself to contemplate on it further, she shoved the food into her mouth and a moan of appreciation escaped. The skin was crispy and the meat perfectly moist. Without thinking, she began to devour the remaining foodstuffs until there was barely anything left but a savory gravy. 

Bulma reached for the glass of wine, and glanced up to find that man still by her side and he had the audacity to look smug. Refusing to allow him the satisfaction of another victory, she turned away to sip her drink uncaring if the beverage was laced with mind-numbing narcotics.

She took a moment to enjoy the fine Pinot Noir in her glass. The heavily perfumed wine had scents of earth, cherries, strawberries and paired exceeding well with the lingering flavor of the duck. She wished she had savored it more, especially since she knew the cost of one glass was exorbitant, let alone a whole bottle.

When she pulled the glass away, a drop of the high priced wine lingered on her lip and, before she could reach for a napkin to dab it away, she felt his thumb and forefinger grasp her chin to gently turn it back towards him. The lustful look had returned to his dark eyes, the deep wells all but pulling her towards them. With extreme care, his bare thumb slowly wiped away the offending liquid. She licked her lips, the movement causing his eyes to flick down to her mouth, and he moistened his own in response. Her heart beat faster, and she was torn between grabbing the nearby knife as a weapon and grabbing the infuriating man in front of her.

As if he sensed her indecisiveness, he calmly took the knife and handed it to her before lightly pressing his lips against hers and pulling back just enough that their mouths hovered over each other. Immediately, she pushed the blade to his throat; however, the King simply smirked and leaned into the sharp utensil before he recaptured her lips. Quickly, they fell back into the rythmn that had occupied them so many nights ago and, although she could see the small trail of blood that dripped down beneath the collar of his jacket, she kept the blade against his throat as their lips and mouth danced with each other. His mouth was demanding, but he never took more than she offered. A low growl rumbled in his throat when her tongue caressed his and she finally returned his kiss with unrestrained fervor.

They pulled away, the minutes in their embrace seeming like hours, and regarded each other. She took deep breaths, trying to quell her racing nerves and pulsing blood. King Vegeta straightened his back and pushed a stray lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead back into place before he stiffly adjusted his uniform. 

“If you are quite satisfied, perhaps now we can get down to business.”

And just like that, the moment was broken. From her seat, she glared daggers in his direction; however, rather than intimidate, it caused the smug smirk to return on his face.

“And what business would I have with the Dark Destroyer? What do you hope to gain by holding me hostage in your floating prison? I have nothing you want!”

Her declaration caused a feral grin to spread across his features and an unnerving chuckle to ripple through the King’s chest. For a moment, the Dark Destroyer returned and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she watched him pick up a cloth napkin to wipe the blood away on his now healed neck. .

“That is where you’re gravely mistaken. And, please, haven’t we moved well past the need for stage names and pseudonyms...Ms. Briefs?”

  
  



	3. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chap Recap: King Vegeta and the Cerulean Avenger shared an intimate dinner. Words were bandied and a passionate kiss was shared; however, the Dark Destroyer dropped a bomb of a revelation. He knew the Cerulean Avenger's secret identity.
> 
> Now: Revelation and Repercussions.
> 
> Song inspo: [Town without Pity - Gene Pitney](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HkpCjT4LiE)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Lady_Red for being a great beta and to my fellow Dungeoneers! You know who you are. You guys are the best and helped keep me going!

~ _Breaking news! Law enforcement personnel have uncovered the remains of what looks to be the self-proclaimed villain “Nappalanche” seen here:_ _  
  
_

**_“HAHAHAHA….I’m ‘bout to bring the pain, cause you’re ‘bout to be hit...by the Nappalanche!”_** _  
__  
__Video footage seems to confirm this theory, and they believe that this was the individual engaged in combat with our city’s hero; however, these reports have yet to be confirmed and are mere speculation at this time._ _  
__  
_ _Kent, if this is accurate, it does seem out of character. The Cerulean Avenger has never used lethal force…”_ _  
__  
__“That we know of…”_ _  
__  
__“Yes, that’s true. However, all accounts seem to indicate that she was shot down before this occurred. Do you really think it’s possible that she executed this man in cold blood?”_ _  
__  
__“Yuri, it was only a matter of time before she turned. No one stays pure and innocent forever. The history of the world is littered with saints who turned into sinners. These “superhero” types can not be trusted. Do we really know what’s going on inside their heads? Who does this Cerulean Avenger think she is anyway? We didn’t ask for her help and we don’t need her help. It is because of the emergence of these so-called heroes that we every Harry sad-sack coming out of the woodwork wanting to put on a cape and be a villain. What is she? Some bored housewife who just decided to play vigilante one day or a just a spoiled little rich girl trying to find love from the people because Mommy and Daddy didn’t show her enough as a child?_

 _What about the real heroes? The men and women, without costumes, who make a difference in this world. Our medical professionals, our firefighters, our law enforcement. Should we just forget about them because they don’t wear risque outfits? “_ _  
__  
_ _“All good questions Kent. We’ll keep you updated on this story as it progresses.~”_ _  
__  
_

\------------------------------------------------------------------

She gasped, a chill running down her spine and a sinking feeling settling in her stomach at his casual reveal of her true identity. It simply wasn’t possible! Bulma Briefs was one of the most enigmatic people on earth. No one knew that the heiress to the largest sum of _zeni_ this side of East City moonlit as a hero when not attending banquets or movie premieres with her boyfriend. They couldn’t know and, honestly, they didn’t want to know. 

She glanced back up to her captor, setting her jaw and narrowing her eyes in his direction. The King arched a sardonic brow, unperturbed by her posturing, and confidently picked up the Pinot Noir bottle to refill their empty glasses.

His eyes twinkled with a combination of mirth and purpose. As he set the wine bottle down, his fingers tapped a device on his wrist. To her surprise, a tried and true musical standard filled the room. The recognizable and provocative four count melody made her, unconsciously, want to move along with the beat and she knitted her brows together when she saw the monarch reach forward with his palm facing up. She scoffed, incredulous at the audacity of this man which apparently and truly knew no bounds.

“Please! You cannot seriously expect me to dance with you! You _kidnapped_ me, if you recall?”  
  
As she petulantly crossed her arms under her bosom and placed one of her legs over the other, the slit on the side of the dress exposed more leg than she intended. A sharp intake of breath caused Bulma to glance up to regard the man still standing over her with his hand extended. The hungry look returned to his eyes for a moment but, as he exhaled, the collected veneer took its place along with a small upturn of his lips.  
  
“Do you have another pressing engagement that I’m unaware of, Ms. Briefs? According to the online tabloids, you are having a rather rocky relationship with that ‘boyfriend’ of yours. Or, is it that _he’s_ having a rough relationship with _you_ ? I can never keep track of the garbage your media puts forth as news.”  
  
Bulma returned her focus to his offered hand and then flicked her eyes towards his again. A small huff of displeasure exhaled through her nose, and she daintily placed her hand in his. With extreme care, King Vegeta pulled her upwards and into his arms.  
  
“Besides, as I stated before, we have business to discuss.”

The soft jazz sprinkled the atmosphere with sensual phrases, and they swayed in time with music. As she needed to add another thing to the list of qualities that surprised her about this man, he was a competent dance partner. This evening was certainly becoming one filled with surprises, but he’d had her backpedaling the whole night. Now was the time to assert herself against his charms.

“Isn’t this song... a little old fashioned?”  
  
He chuckled, and shook his head. 

“The _classics..._ never go out of style, Ms. Briefs.” He replied, his voice low and dark as sin. She snorted and rolled her eyes. Seems like even psychopathic sovereigns were not above using cheesy pick-up lines. But, as the music continued to play, she found herself being carried along with the moment.  
  
His hold was firm, but gentle. One hand held her hand and guided her around the room, whilst the other, placed on the small of her back supported her frame and kept their bodies close. 

She shouldn’t be doing this, she was a hero...a hero who had been seduced by the wicked ways of this nefarious villain. 

However, if she was being honest with herself, she had not been an unwilling participant in their last rendezvous. It was something that had been brewing between them for some time and she had decided to just take what she wanted for once instead of being told what she should want. 

When was the last time that she had been asked to dance, when it wasn’t being photographed for thousands of cameras? She honestly could not remember, yet here she was slow dancing with the most reprehensible man in existence.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. 

That title belonged to his predecessor - Frieza. The World Organization of Countries were aware of his atrocities: the forced labor camps, the secret police who executed those who dared to oppose him, the mandatory abortions for couples who already had two children. They knew, but could do nothing other than traverse diplomatic means. It was inevitable that someone would rise against the cold grip the man had of Sadala, and when video of the then-Prince presenting the former dictator’s severed head to the thunderous applause of his people was broadcast to screens across the world, the WOC had the nerve to be aghast.  
  
However, the man on the screen had not appeared crazed or manic in his comportment. On the contrary, his bearing was both composed and commanding. From her research, although there had been loss of life during his...actions at strategic WOC stockpiles, it had never been deliberately done. It was if he considered the death of those who opposed him as acceptable losses. Despite his methodology, there was a certain logic to his actions. In a different situation, she could see herself reacting towards the indifference of a cold world similarly. 

She almost admired the man, and understood why his people revered him as a liberator instead of as the terrorist the world labeled him to be. A proud prodigal son, a phoenix arising from the ashes and taking his people with him. Although it went against her better judgement, she could not help but be drawn towards him again and again. It also did not help that the king filled out his armour and _this_ uniform in ways that just added to the dangerous air he projected. Her mother had been right. She had a weakness for bad boys.  
  


“Why so severe, Ms. Briefs?” he asked, interrupting her reverie and prolonged silence, his voice tinted with slight concern. “Surely you are not sulking because I was able to uncover the truth. It’s really quite obvious...for those who know what to look for. Although, I do wonder what Capsule Corp’s board of directors would think about their CEO using proprietary tech for her own vanity side project?” 

Bulma didn’t want to look at him. It was bad enough that he was gloating, but he had to be so damned charming about it too. Even in battle, he was not above taunting or deriding his opponents. She had been on the receiving end of many of his verbal jabs; however, unlike some of the heroes who simply became enraged and opened themselves up to attacks, she sassed back. Maybe that’s why he’d become intrigued by her. She had the nerve to stand up to him while the rest of the world trembled at his feet.

But, as she heard him begin to hum absentmindedly along with the tune, she couldn’t help but faintly smile at his relaxed demeanor. She turned her head to look into his eyes and relaxed her body to move more fluidly with him, rolling her hips against his and letting his motions lead hers. The dark pools of his eyes, often cold and distant, were warm and inviting. His rigid posture, now fluid and familiar. 

Her frustration notwithstanding, Bulma was pleased. The King had let slip a vital piece of information, thus alerting her to his overall goal. He was going to try to manipulate her with her identity. A classic villain technique, but one she was prepared for. With minimum effort she could create false trails and fake accounts that would discredit any attempt to reveal true self to the public and the board. A sense of surety spread throughout her body, and a pleased smile grew on her face.

“That’s it? You’re trying to blackmail me with my identity? That seems beneath your scope and vision. I’m a little disappointed, but the food was...passable.” she said.

Her eyes flashed defiance back at him and her tone was irreverent as she moved his hands to her hips. His refined brow arched at her boldness, but he remained still as she ground herself against his taut frame, and slithered her way up and down his body, hips continuing to undulate with the music.

He laughed. A true laugh and not the derisive, mocking chuckle which she would most often hear from him. “Oh, Ms Briefs...I do adore seeing you like this, rather than the simpering fool you pretend to be. My proposal is quite simple…”

With an unending grace, he twirled her away from his body only to pull her back and continued to move them masterfully around the room. The forceful contact back into his chest caused her to gasp and take a moment to admire the hard body beneath his uniform. His hand, splayed out and firm on her lumbar region, caused warmth to radiate from the skin to skin contact by his bare hand to her back.

She cleared her throat and tried to interrupt the heated moment that was in danger of occurring. She was getting sucked in again, just like last time. She had to remain in control and not let the purveyor of fiendish delights pull her away. “Then, please, do tell. You’ve had me waiting in suspense all evening, _Your Highness_ , and I’m starting to get bored.”  
  
The King chuckled and dipped her low, cradling one of her legs in his hand. “While I certainly appreciate the deference, you have the Crown’s permission to address me as Vegeta... _Bulma_ .” he replied, seemingly unconcerned with her taunt.  
  
Bulma grunted in frustration, and closed her eyes to focus herself. She had to remember his weakness. Until today she would have assumed it was his damnable pride. The King certainly had a flair for the dramatic in spite of his lamentations for the natural theatrics of the superhero game and detested being disrespected, but his increased attention made it apparent that his priority had shifted...onto her. It should have terrified her, but it didn’t. She opened her eyes and held her breath as she saw him lower his head towards hers. He was going to kiss her again, and she wanted to let him. Her heart pounded faster, all but roaring in her ears, and his lips were but a breath away as she said,  
  
“You’re stalling, _Vegeta_ . What do you want from me?”  
  
The song finally faded away, and the room was filled with only the sound of their mutual breaths.The steamy look slid away from his face, and a business-like manner settled upon his broad shoulders. He raised her back to stand on her two feet, taking a moment to place a loosened curl from her up-do behind her ear, and strode back to the table. Vegeta picked up his wine and, for a moment, did nothing but stare at the crimson liquid as it swirled in his glass. 

“Marry me.”

She blinked several times, and stood with her mouth agape for a moment as she tried to decipher the two words that the man in front of her had just uttered. Two words that should never have come from said person and for some reason were tossed in her direction. A disbelieving chuckle wormed its way from her throat.

“You’re joking, Vegeta.”  
  
He frowned and furrowed his brow, and it became quickly apparent that the king was not in a jesting mood. He slammed his drink back on the table, the stem of the glassware cracking under the force. A growl of displeasure came from his side of the room and soon the massive panoramic windows began to rattle. A greenish glow began to gather in his hand, and Vegeta abruptly turned his back to her. 

Bulma took a step back and stumbled, the yacht lurching side to side as power radiated off the king’s body. She knelt, lowering her center of gravity, and eyed the silverware on the table as she tried to determine the likelihood that the table could deflect a blast or if that steak knife could damage him. Gradually the light and tremors subsided. Only a faint to and fro motion of the yacht could be felt along with loud and measured breaths. Carefully, and warily, she stood although she was prepared to lunge for anything as a method of defense. 

“Forgive me, that was...uncalled for. You, of course, have ample reason to be skeptical; however, I assure you that I am quite serious. I wish for you to be my queen. We are like phosphorus and oxygen, you and I. Explosive when placed together, yet marvelous to behold. You _ignite_ something in me. Something that I thought had been purged from my soul... _Bulma_ .”  
  
His words, tempered and impassioned, came out in a rushed and rough breath; however, as he turned back to face her, his visage was resolute and purposeful. Vegeta glanced down towards his wrist device and with a quick flick of his hand at his wrist, a blueish holographic display came between them. On the projection were pictures of her along with different file names labeled in a code she could not immediately decipher. Vegeta trailed his hand to several of the file names and tapped them to reveal blueprints with the Capsule Corp logo. Beside them various video clips played, depicting her as the humble figurehead, relegated to the back of the crowd while others took credit for her work.

“If that is not reason enough then, from a purely business point of view, let me ask how is it that you control 40% of the stock, yet you are nothing more than a glorified show pony? Your name is on hundreds of patents, but nowhere is your name listed in public announcements...other than in a ‘Who-Wore-It-Best’ list.”  
  
Another swipe of his hand and shredded documents, contracts to be exact, became whole and displayed the selling to known affiliates of the Cold Organization and Frieza himself. 

“You have created so much but, rather than celebrate the treasure at their fingertips, these old men would rather sell your genius to the highest bidder, no matter the collateral damage. The receipts are all there, all but signed in blood. Is that how you want your father’s life work to be remembered?”

Another swipe and this time, shaky cam footage of Freiza parading through Sadala with Capsule Corp branded missiles on the back of his trucks and Capsule Corp labeled firearms in his military's hands. 

Bulma swallowed, her throat seeming to close up as Vegeta laid bare everything. How had she missed this? It was unforgivable...How could she have let this happen? Regardless of her work as the Cerulean Avenger, something like this should not have fallen through the cracks. Maybe she didn’t want to see it because it was convenient to her true desire. That sobering thought filled her with a deep shame and suddenly made her want to hug herself for comfort. 

Again, he dragged his finger across his wrist and the serious expression that had been on his face since he began his presentation softened. In its place, a look of pure admiration coupled with what could only be described as reverence as video of her as the Cerulean Avenger played. The difference between heiress and hero was almost jarring.

“But here!....here, is where you shine! Unencumbered by the whims and wills of others. Free...to be that glorious woman who is hiding from the world.”

As she watched herself trade blows with bad guys and use her tech to get out of seemingly impossible scrapes, she felt tears well up in her eyes. The woman on screen was amazing and strong, nothing like the other woman who let herself be pushed aside. 

“Aren’t you tired of hiding yourself, whether it be your intelligence or your skill...or your passion? Forget them and the past. Start anew with me. My country and my people respect those with vision, with courage...with strength. You deserve to be treated as a queen and not as a walking advertisement for a company who has turned its back on you and used you for their own greed.”

With each phrase he walked closer, never taking his eyes off of her. As he walked through the screen, it flickered and disappeared leaving nothing between them. His hands, warm and calloused, cupped her face and he leaned closer so that his forehead was pressed against her own.

“At this moment, we are not so different. Both bared, without pretense, before one another. You have just discovered that you were used, and not long ago I discovered the same. It shakes the very foundation of your reality, does it not? You do not have to be alone in this, as I was. Be mine...Bulma.”

She sighed, and allowed herself to enjoy the soothing comfort of Vegeta’s touch. He certainly managed to paint a vivid and tempting picture, but that’s all it was. A picture, beautiful to look at but flat and two dimensional to the touch. He was merely using this newly acquired knowledge of her to prey on her subconscious fears and lead her into making a mistake or allying with him.

  
“You’re full of shit. ”

She countered and tilted her head up so that her demeanor matched one that he was familiar with, haughty and regal, and took a step back.“I see your plan, and I will not be your sectarian sugar momma who you just plan to use as an ATM for your villainous exploits or a bone fide baby dispenser.”  
  
Vegeta smirked, but gave her a bit of disapproving look. “I see. They truly have gotten to you then, if you do not even see your own worth. True, you have wealth but I do not need your riches to succeed in my plans. And yes, you are a gorgeous woman; however, you are more than that organ between your legs in which to bear children.”

He turned his back and walked back towards the table. With one hand the king carefully plucked a few grapes from the decorative placement in the center of the table and obtained her glass of wine with the other. He ambled back to her and handed her the beverage. Bulma snatched it from his hand, half-tempted to throw the drink in his face but reluctant to waste such a fine vintage. He popped a grape into his mouth and leaned causally on the edge of the table, a move that was as confusing to see as it was unnerving.  
  
“I would also thank you to forgo terms like villainous as they are hardly a befitting term for my actions. Seems more like regurgitated headlines used to divert from the truth of the matter. Perhaps you should listen to what your media has been saying about you in your absence.…”  
  
One final swipe of his finger and Global New Network began to play on the reconstituted holographic screen, its talking heads speaking animatedly about the occurrence that afternoon. 

“ _As I was saying Yuri, I have just heard from a source that would prefer to remain anonymous, that police have recovered, what look to be, incendiary devices from the scene. The Nappalanche was a metahuman...he didn’t have any need for them. It was her. She staged the whole thing and murdered that man to cover her tracks. Why else would she flee the scene? What was she trying to hide? We won’t find out until the WOC calls for a global search so that she can be brought to justice….”_ _  
_ _  
_ Bulma gaped at the footage, uncensored and showing the remains of the large man she had been fighting earlier that day. Horrified, she turned away and closed her eyes. There was barely anything left of the Nappalanche, only chunks of cooked meat and splattered organs. Her devices were all non lethal...could one have malfunctioned? No. That was impossible. She didn’t make errors like that. 

“I didn’t...I wouldn’t...” she asserted. “This footage is faked.”  
  
He smiled, and tossed another grape into his mouth before releasing the strap on his wrist remote and tossing the device to her. “Feel free to check the other feeds, they are much kinder but the sentiment is all the same.”  
  
Frantically she manipulated the machine, easily becoming familiar with its functions. News cast after news cast were calling for her blood, jumping on the story seemingly without relevant facts to back it up but unwilling to be left behind in the news cycle. Stories and eyewitnesses, more outlandish than the next. This couldn’t be real.  
  
“This can’t be real. I couldn’t possibly do that to someone, regardless of what they’d done.”  
  
She took a long gulp of her wine, finishing the glass in one breath. This was it...she was done. One news story had destroyed everything she’d try to make for herself.  
  
“Of course you couldn’t. These fools are just looking for a convenient scapegoat. I have been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of your many devices…and you simply do not have the requisite power needed to cause that type of damage to a meta-human, skilled though you may be. That damage was caused by an energy blast of considerable force and magnitude.”  
  
Bulma glanced his way, her head tilted in thought. “You seem to be quite knowledgeable on this matter…”

Vegeta never made such statements on a whim and this whole evening seemed carefully cultivated to woo her to his side. “...this is your doing, isn’t it.” she accused. “You planned for this to happen. As what? A way to discredit me? Did you think that would make me say yes to your proposal!?”

He tsked in indignation, glancing to the side to catch her gaze.  
  
“So little faith. Let me assure you that this media circus was none of my design, although it would seem to be a rather fortunate happenstance.” He stated, as he stood up and smoothed out his uniform. Situated and stately once more, he stalked up to her and spoke in a timbre that was harsh, fierce and dangerous. “That moron did, however, perish at my hand and I would rain hellfire itself, one hundred times over, upon those who make the same grievous error in judgement as to attempt to take _your_ life.”


End file.
